


Playing with Sparks

by TabisMouse (Mousieta)



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossdressing Kink, Established Relationship, Light BDSM, M/M, Prostitution, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 11:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29998896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mousieta/pseuds/TabisMouse
Summary: Seunghyun and Jiyong are the *it* power-couple of the art world, basking in a world of luxury and success. But what relationship couldn't do with a few sparks added to the slow smolder of deep love? So they decided to take a little trip down memory lane to the way they first met.
Relationships: Choi Seunghyun | T.O.P./Kwon Jiyong | G-Dragon
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	Playing with Sparks

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the K-Fic discord server's Maid AU. I totally blame them for dragging me here... to writing GTop like its 2015 (wth is going on!?!?)
> 
> Much thanks to them for being enabling deviants, and Sam for the beta. 
> 
> I'm a bit rusty at these two so I beg your indulgence.

Seunghyun stretched as he undid his bow-tie, muscles in his back whining. He tried to massage them but his shoulder vehemently refused to bend that way. 

“Getting old, hyung?” Jiyong teased, but he slid up behind Seunghyun and applied his fingers to skillfully working out the knot right in the center of his spine. 

Seunghyun sighed as Jiyong worked his magic. “Just can’t stand for five hours in these shoes apparently, good cause or not.” He kicked said shoes off and stepped away to sink down into their bed. 

Jiyong smirked. “Hyungie not as young as he used to be?” 

Seunghyun’s retort was preempted as karma apparently twinged at Jiyong’s own back and he hunched a bit, grimacing. Instead, Seunghyun gave a little smirk, arching a sardonic brow. Jiyong rolled his eyes and began unbuttoning his dress shirt, muttering, “whatever, I still got  _ it _ .”

“Yeah, I noticed.” And Seunghyun couldn’t keep the judgement out of his voice. 

“Oh, you gonna be prissy about that?” Jiyong sassed as he sauntered into the restroom, leaving clothes to fall where they may. 

“Fucking Sangguk couldn’t stop staring at you.”

Jiyong rolled his eyes and started the shower. “That old queen can look but he ain’t gettin’ nothin’.”

Seunghyun grunted. 

“Oh, come on you aren’t jealous!”

“He stared like he was gonna bend you over the shrimp tray!”

“Weeelll-” Jiyong smirked as he dropped his underwear and Seunghyun’s heart gave a small double-thud. Ten years together and it still did that at the sight of Jiyong. “Hag wasn’t the only one getting an eye full.” He sighed dramatically. “Whatever, they can all look but none of them are getting anything from me -” he shot a glance at Seunghyun - “not even if  _ they _ pay.”

Seunghyun flushed a little and mentally jumped over Jiyong’s allusion to his past to reassure himself that it was true. The could look but Jiyong was intensely loyal. It wasn’t his fault he looked  _ like that _ when in a perfectly tailored suit. The knowledge of what he looked like underneath didn’t help. Heavy lidded, Seunghyun’s eyes drew back for a discreet peek as Jiyong tested the water in their large, open shower. “Wanna join?”

He shook his head. “Mikyung said she’d be sending over the donation information for tonight and I need to go over it.”

Jiyong pulled a face. “Can’t it wait?”

Seunghyun shook his head. “I have to go up to the gallery tomorrow and it’ll be all day, then the trip this weekend-”

Jiyong came forward to wrap him in a hug. “Poor, hardworking, hyung.” He gave a pretty pout, but Seunghyun knew he was sincere. 

“It’s fine.” He brought his arms up to squeeze Jiyong tight, taking comfort in him just  _ being. _ Placing a kiss on Jiyong’s forehead he squeezed a little tighter, then indulged in dragging his hands down over Jiyong’s naked skin. 

He yelped and pulled back to swat at Seunghyun’s chest. “No teasing!” They shared a laugh as Jiyong returned to the shower and stepped in, Seunghyun appreciating the view. 

With another sigh, he dragged his hand through his hair, destroying all the gel, to let it flutter down over his forehead, then headed out for his office. A sharp pain stabbed into his foot and he doubled over with a yelp. “What the?!” Feeling through the pile of clothes on the floor he pulled out Jiyong’s nametag from the benefit. “Jiyong!!” he shouted. 

Jiyong’s head peeked out from around the shower door. “Wha?”

“Pick up your shit!”

“I will!”

“I just stepped on your nametag!”

“I’m sorry!”

“You’re always sorry!”

“Well it’s because I am-shit-” he ducked back into the water, “look I will argue with you later. I got soap in my eye, fuck.”

Seunghyun grunted. “Your towel from last night is still on the arm chair!” he shouted and all he got back was a wave of Jiyong’s hand. 

Grumpy, he stomped to the kitchen for a drink. “And you said you’d do the dishes this morning which is why I  _ didn’t _ do them!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, glaring at the full sink and knowing Jiyong couldn’t hear him. 

“Fuck,  _ I’m _ supposed to be the sloppy one.” He kicked at Jiyong’s running shoes on the floor beside the peloton. “Managing the shop really can’t be  _ that _ busy.” But he checked himself. Jiyong’s work was much more than managing a  _ shop _ . He worked hard. They both did. 

Still-

He sank into his desk, setting his glass of water down amidst an abandoned forest of half-empty cups that stood silently judging him. “We’re both busy,” he grumped at them. 

Pulling up his email he began scrolling and, sure enough, his assistant had sent him a breakdown of the donations from the night’s charity gala. Halfway through reading the lists he sat up straight, heat shooting through him and head feeling light as what Jiyong had said finally landed. 

_ Not even if  _ they _ pay.  _ Emphasis on they … not pay. 

Fingers trembling he pulled up the site, a blank screen prompting login. 

The layout was different than it had been a decade and a half ago when he’d first come to it with lustful apprehension. Different even than the last time he’d logged in shortly before the wedding, new pictures of attractive bodies in an array of maid costumes, blurbs promising quality and professionalism. The domain was the same, though. 

He clicked on  ****Maids**** and selected Man, then scrolled down, stomach churning, heart fluttering. 

“Fuck,” he groaned as he stopped scrolling. A gasped moan followed and he pressed a hand to his rapidly filling cock. “Dammit, Jiyong.”

He opened a profile, pictures obscuring the face but he recognized the body, the fingers, the slender legs with their tell-tale tattoos peeking out below the maid skirt. Jiyong always joked that he’d make a new profile on the site, to accept one client and one client only this time. 

The memory of Jiyong in a maid’s outfit, cleaning for him, posing for him, sucking him - Seunghyun gave his cock a firm tug to ease the pressure then hurriedly clicked the order button, one-handedly filling out the form, pulling up his flight itinerary and struggling through the math to set the appointment time. 

“Daesung?” he said, holding the phone to his ear, then winced as he caught the time. He tried to be conscientious of his assistant's time but had become caught up in the moment. “I’m so sorry, something just came up and I’m going to need to shift my flight next week. No- the one back. I’ll take the late flight the day before. Yes, yes I know it would be easier to come in the next day-” he hated late night flights, they always left him so frazzled, “-you can leave your return date as is, get the apartment by the airport prepared for that night and have my car parked in my regular lot.” The apartment was a holdover from the days he’d spent more time in the air than on the ground and he’d longed for a comfortable, familiar place during the few moments he had between flights. He thanked fate that life had been too busy for him to get around to selling it. 

He also thanked Daesung’s easy nature then added, “Get yourself something from the Fall collection. Yes, I’m sure, my apology for calling so late. Love to the family.”

He took in a deep breath and let his hand droop, his phone resting against his lower lip. He gave it an absent bite, eyes glazed over as he tried to take in what he’d done. What  _ they _ were going to do. 

Heart pounding and cock filling, Seunghyun finalized the transaction, a notice assuring him that the details would be sent - discreetly - to the email provided. Junmyeon had really perfected the process. He made a mental note to have Daesung send him something as well, then forgot that whole line of reasoning as he clicked back over to the profile. 

_ This maid is absolutely top-class, his services second to none. Though it has been years since he left us for greener pastures, he’s come back for a limited time for the most discerning of customers. Available to those select few at any time they request, he is sure to fulfill any desire beyond expectations.  _

He could  _ hear  _ Jiyong’s teasing voice positively dripping irony in the words. He could still hearing the shower going; Jiyong could be in there for hours if left to it.  _ Might as well, _ he thought as he clicked on the Gallery. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, then his voice hitched as he scrolled down.  _ When had Jiyong found the time? _

A whole gallery of dozens of photos were on display for just anyone to see. The thought drove him insane and he reached a hand down into his pants, palming at his cock to provide some release. 

Grabbing the mouse with his left hand, he kept scrolling. Photo after photo streamed by. Jiyong, face obscured but pose coquettish. Jiyong leaning back to expose his exquisite collarbones above the black bust of his dress. Jiyong in candy-apple red heels and dark black stockings that disappeared at the delicate lace hem of his skirt. “God, with th-the s-seam at the back,” Sunghyun stuttered as his hand began to stroke. 

The next photo had Jiyong bent over, skirt hiked up, revealing the dark black of satin shining against the warm glow of his skin, so soft and silky. Another photo, two hands he knew so well, reaching back to grasp at thighs and slightly pull them apart, an invitation. He bit his lip, trying desperately to keep his moans to low grunts. 

_ Fuck _ , he wasn’t going to last. 

Hunching over he gasped as he came into his hand. 

He reached down to strip off a sock, cleaning himself up like some horny teen his first time on the internet. “Dammit, Ji.” Desire dripped from every syllable. 

Sitting up straight, he opened up the inbox for his junk email account. 

**Maid for You** **Appointment Registration** **-1 attachment** **1:04am** **Congratulations**

Maid for You Welcome Back 12:47am Click here to confirm registration

**Maid for You** **New Sign-In on your account, click here if this wasn’t you** **12:45am** **We’ve noticed a new sign-in to**

He clicked the latest email and skimmed.

Mr. Choi,

Thank you for signing up for Maid For Hire. We have received your reservation for Scarlet’s services and will be confirming the appointment with them. Please review our latest Terms of Service as they have been recently updated, and provide a digital signature where prompted. Note that violation of any of the Terms will result in immediate expulsion from the service. 

Once you have signed and we have confirmed with your maid, an Appointment Confirmation email will be sent to you. 

Sincerely,

Kim Junmyeon

CEO

He highly doubted Junmyeon was responding to emails at 1 o’clock in the morning but he still smiled affectionately at the personal touch. Opening the attachment, he skimmed to the end and signed where prompted then sent the email back. 

A pair of emails came back almost instantly. 

**Maid for You** **Appointment Confirmation** **-1 attachment** **1:08am** **Thank you for confirming**

**Maid for You** **Fancy seeing you here** **1:07 am** **Hey**

He clicked the earlier message and had to laugh.

Hey,

Have fun :)

-kjm

So he did read the emails, after all. Seunghyun shouldn’t have been surprised. He knew how passionate Junmyeon was about taking care of his maids. A quick skim of the second email revealed that Jiyong had confirmed the appointment. The shower had stopped a while ago, he realized. 

“Shit.” 

He hurried to clear his Internet History. A stupidly unnecessary, yet compulsive move. He ripped off his undershirt as he trotted to the bedroom, balling his dirty socks into it and tossing it as casually as he could manage into the hamper in the closet before turning to the restroom. 

Jiyong was brushing his teeth, cool and calm as if he hadn’t just accepted a sex-job. 

“Shower?” he asked after he spit out his toothpaste. 

Seunghyun grunted and stepped out of his pants, quite pleased that he was not the slightest bit hard. Jiyong wiped his face then leaned on his way out to peck Seunghyun’s cheek absently. 

Cool and collected. 

“Fucking, Ji,” Seunghyun muttered as the shower roared on. 

  
  


He tried. Really he tried. By the end of his trip, though, he decided he needed to give Daesung something extravagant, something big. Seunghyun was utterly useless on the scouting trip, brain fully occupied with memories of Jiyong. Of the first time he’d hired him, the first time they’d fucked, quick and rough against the wall of Seunghyun’s first condo. Fantasies interspersed the memories of all the things he could do to Jiyong. Of what he wanted to do first, then second. 

They’d actually had sex the day before Seunghyun left for Japan. It had been sweet and affectionate, full of romantic kisses and long, languorous touches. It had been fantastic. All sex with Jiyong was fantastic. But the thought of the assignation he’d scheduled for when he got back destroyed his focus all through the galleries of Tokyo. 

He and Daesung had prepped well for it, though -

Which reminded him, perhaps he should prep for-

“Sir?” Daesung’s voice pulled him from that line of thinking and, chagrined, he gave his assistant an apologetic look. Daesung’s eyes said he knew  _ exactly _ what was going on with his boss, but professionalism ruled his tone. “I can go ahead and see to the shipping paperwork and details, if you want to head back to the hotel?”

“Yes,” Seunghyun said, feeling incredibly useless. “Thank you, Dae.”

Dae just barely did not smirk. “I’ll also be buying myself that little number we saw at the entrance.” On Seunghyun’s card was the implication and, grateful, Seunghyun nodded then checked himself. His flight back wasn’t for several hours. He’d intended to have a networking dinner with the head of the gallery -

“And the Director sends his apologies as he won’t be able to meet with you tonight, as something came up.”

Seunghyun clapped Daesung on the shoulder and gave a grateful squeeze. 

“I’ve already called your car-” Daesung fished his phone out of his pocket- “and it looks like the driver just pulled up. Also he’ll be in the Hotel lobby for you an hour before your flight, to take you to the airport.”

“You’re getting a raise,” Seunghyun promised and, affixing his yellow sunglasses over his eyes, he strode out the foyer of the museum.

  
  


Working out his nervous energy by pacing in his suite was much better than absently staring into the distance during the gallery showing or frantically bouncing his knee in the back of his car. Daesung had done a good job packing, providing a variety of looks and ensembles put together from Seunghyun’s closet for the trip. The whole time they’d been in Tokyo, however, Seunghyun hadn’t given a single thought to his dress, putting on whatever Daesung handed him on his way to the shower. 

But now, a couple hours before his flight, he found himself paralyzed by indecision, staring at every stitch Daesung’d packed laid out over the gargantuan bed. 

Jiyong probably wouldn’t care, but Seunghyun  _ had _ to look just right. 

He pulled off the tie he’d tried on in the mirror. Blue was definitely the wrong color. 

Stalking across the room, ripping off the tie and shucking off the soft grey pants, he stood in his button up white shirt and loose boxers. He caught his reflection in the second mirror over the bed he paused to consider. 

Yanking the boxers off, he pulled out a skin tight black pair of boxer briefs, woven so fine as to be nearly shear.  _ Should I trim? _ He thought, regarding the wild hair around his cock. Examining himself in the mirror, twisting and turning, he decided,  _ Yes. _

A quick trip to the restroom had him neatly shaven and groomed. Pulling the boxer briefs back on and adjusting his half-hard cock, he knew how he should go. 

Black slacks, tailored for an immaculate fit, fitting snug over his ass and hem brushing what would be brilliantly shined black shoes. He padded into the restroom and fixed his hair, sweeping it to one side and slicking it back. White shirt, hugging the waist that was still trim; black skinny tie which, combined with an inky black suit coat made him look incredibly long. 

He eyed himself in the mirror and nodded approvingly. He was still incredibly fuckable. 

At that moment his phone buzzed. His driver was downstairs. Pulling on black leather gloves, he gave himself a sly wink and walked out of his room. Daesung would handle the rest. 

The flight was, thankfully, nearly empty; his hardon distractingly incessant. A million and one scenarios, a million and one images, raced through his brain, and he willed the airplane to go faster, damn it. 

His car was parked in its usual spot, black and sporty though he didn’t care enough about these sorts of things to care about make and model. It looked good. Like sex. That’s what mattered. 

He drove through the dark streets, an aching moan building in his throat. It took everything he had not to sprint from his parked car up through the apartment building to his door. No, he needed to pace himself. 

Stepping into the apartment, he looked around the place in the dim yellow glow of the automatic light in the foyer. It was empty and had been aired out, though a layer of dust seemed to have settled over most of the surfaces. Good. 

Taking out his phone, he set it in a kitchen drawer, powered off. He then set the lights in the kitchen on low and turned on the living room fireplace. Checking the time, he set a bottle of wine out to decant and settled into what had once been his favorite chair, facing the door. 

He waited, electricity racing under his skin, anticipation catching his breath tight. How many nights, back then, had he sat just like this, waiting… waiting for the maid that had stolen his heart. 

It felt a lifetime ago, but suspended in the moment, the flickering flames sending shadows dancing through the room, he felt transported back almost fifteen years. The giddy, heady rush of new love and obliterating lust coursed through him. 

It was an eternity that probably only lasted a quarter hour, before the tell-tale beep of the front door froze his heart in its rhythm. 

“Maid service,” came Jiyong’s voice and he let himself in, small case in hand. Seunghyun stifled a groan as he took Jiyong in. 

Red heels gleamed at his feet, shaping his black-stocking clad thighs deliciously. Experience told him the stockings would die at garters under a frilly, black skirt, but they currently disappeared under a dark coat. A small white cap perched on his head, hair a dirty blonde - he’d gotten it done into a style he hadn’t sported in half a decade, the style he’d worn  _ back then _ . 

Ruby red lips smiled at him under dusky shaded eyes and Jiyong gave a slight bow. “Hello, sir, I’m your maid for today, you can call me Scarlet.”

“You can hang your coat, and bring me a drink,” he commanded, a sharp tone he hadn’t used in years coming back easily. 

“As you say, Sir,” Jiyong said, a familiar tremble to his voice. Seunghyun’s heart ached and he hungered watching Jiyong turn. He pulled the coat down, revealing his slender neck, tattooed with angel’s wings, the body disappearing behind the white lace of his uniform’s collar. The skirt of the black dress was hemmed in more white lace, fluttering over the stockings clinging to Jiyong’s thighs. 

Seunghyun stared into the fire as he listened to Jiyong pouring the wine. “Get some for yourself, too,” he called.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly.” Jiyong said, coming into the room with a wine glass on a tray. “I’m working, after all.”

“Company rules?” Seunghyun asked, taking the glass. Jiyong nodded and turned, but Seunghyun reached out to grab his wrist, the leather of his gloves inky black against the pale glow of Jiyong’s skin. Jiyong gasped, his eyes caught in Seunghyun’s gaze as he brought his glass up for a drink, taking a sip, unblinking. “Pity,” Seunghyun said after he swallowed, then released Jiyong.

He gestured to the built-in shelves, floor to ceiling, on either side of the fire place, displaying an assortment of bearbricks, toys and small art pieces, all old. He hadn’t really been here in years. “You can get started tidying all that up.” Dust was probably caked on to everything. 

“Sir?” Jiyong pulled at his attention, feather duster in hand. Seunghyun looked up at him. “Would you like me to start at the top-” he arched an eyebrow and a finger came down to stroke at Seunghyun’s collar, sliding down towards his chest- “or the bottom?” he ended on a husky whisper. 

“There’s a stool in the kitchen cupboard,” Seunghyun said, inwardly relived that he could keep his voice low and steady. His skin was overheated in the blaze of Jiyong’s gaze and the flickering fire, his heart thundered in his chest and he felt too light in all his limbs. 

He took another drink of wine to steady himself. It didn’t help.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Jiyong returned, small stool and broom in hand. “I’ll just get started, sir,” he said, ostensibly demure but Seunghyun struggled to register his words, distracted by the red of Jiyong’s lips curving in a teasing smile.

Seunghyun grunted. 

Jiyong started by dusting along the top of the tall rectangular leaning mirror that lived beside the shelves. He then set the stool, climbed up, and Seunghyun had to bite his lip at the sight of Jiyong’s feet, delicately arched in the red shoes, the heel slipping off as he stretched up on tippy-toes. The mirror gave a delightful second view of his slender legs, thighs brushed by the lace trim of the skirt, swaying as he moved back and forth. 

Jiyong dusted the top shelf, giving tiny little sneezes and murmuring quiet apologies. Seunghyun just admired the way the work pulled his lean body taut. The tight cinch of the dress at his waist a reminder that Seunghyun could still wrap his hands almost around it. 

“Is this to your liking, sir?” Jiyong asked and Seunghyun growled out a yes, pouring into it every drop of his lust, knowing exactly what affect his voice would have on Jiying. Knowing him well enough to catch the tremble of his shoulders betraying a stuttered breath. Catching the fragmentary pause of the duster as Jiyong took hold of himself. 

Oh, this was so much better than back-then. Years of the experience between them added a potent spice, a  _ knowing,  _ that they’d never had then. 

Jiyong settled back onto his heels as he attacked the second level of the shelf. He began to hum, absently, momentarily focused on his actual task and the sound, so familiar and comforting, was its own flavor of erotic and Seunghyun began palming himself, mesmerized by the sway of Jiyong’s skirt, the shadows dancing up and down his legs and the warm cast of the fire. He’d meant to hold out, meant to make this last, but, as with so many things with Jiyong, he reacted with instinct, control a mirage. 

Jiyong moved to the next shelf, stepping off the stool. Seunghyun began to rock his palm over his hardon, rolling it in a familiar rhythm, one that would make things last while sending out delicious ripples of pleasure. 

Another shelf and Seunghyun was entranced, time abstracted as he strung out, spun on the waves radiating out from his cock, his life measured by pulsing surges as his heart thudded and his breath came in deep gasps. 

Jiyong knelt and Seunghyun, lost, groaned when Jiyong’s skirt hiked up, revealing his garters. Red, not black. Naughty boy. Jiyong’s knowing chuckle as he dusted the bottom shelf had Seunghyun fully gripping his cock, holding it tight over the slacks. He needed release. 

But no, he would make this last. 

Jiyong looked back at Seunghyun over his shoulder with a smirk. “Do you need something, sir?” His tone, light and airy, mocked his wicked grin. 

“Dust the table,” Seunghyun bit out, relinquishing his erection, letting it throb painfully, twitching and straining at his pants. It was too dark for Jiyong to see it, but Jiyong  _ knew _ . His expression, the twitch of his brows, the quirk of his lips as he began dusting the coffee table between them- he knew. 

“You seem-” Jiyong paused and pretended to rub out a spot on the black glass, “pained, sir.” He moved closer along the table. “I am skilled at massage, as well. Long business trips are hell on the -” he looked up through his lashes - “back.”

“I’m ok,” he lied. 

Jiyong kept moving towards him. “It’s all part of the service, sir.” He stopped at Seunghyun’s legs, looking up at him from between his knees. Hands, slender and pale, with their tell-tale tattoos, cupped his thighs. “These long, long, legs all cooped up behind a plane seat,” he cooed and gave a pout, “they must be so tight.” He squeezed, kneading at Seunghyun’s thighs. 

“Ji-” he gasped out and Jiyong’s eyes met his in a straight gaze.

“Sir? We should be professional,” he reprimanded. 

“Scarlet,” Seunghyun said, correcting himself, “I assure you my legs are just fine-” He gasped as Jiyong’s hands slid up to find his erection. 

“Oh, sir, this is a problem I can definitely help with.” One hand continued to rub at him, fingers finding his head in an instant and beginning to stroke, while the other began undoing his buttons. Seunghyun let himself be undone, preening a bit as his full length was finally free. 

He’d been hard since Jiyong walked in - since before, honestly. They’d both seen this thousands of times, but even he had to admit it was an impressive sight. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this hard, this aroused. 

Jiyong licked his red lips and looked up at Seunghyun, hungry. 

“Go to it then,” Seunghyun commanded, giving a casual wave towards his cock. 

Jiyong took him in one go, entire length disappearing into his pretty, pretty mouth and Seunghyun jerked as he felt Jiyong’s throat close over his head in a rhythmic squeeze, tongue laving at the underside of his cock. 

He caught their reflection in the mirror, the angle just right to fully capture Jiyong from behind, skirt half flipped up to reveal the red garters and panties just barely covering his ass, exposing the full upper back of his thighs, flexing as he rocked back and forth.

“God.”

“Yes,” Jiyong answered as he slid back and off only for long enough to swirl his tongue around Seunghyun’s head before going back to sucking him down. 

He’d forgotten. He knew, _ he knew, _ of course he knew, Jiyong had sucked him so many times but he’d forgotten. Forgotten -

“Fuck,” he gasped. He’d forgotten how good Jiyong could be at this. How fast he could bring Seunghyun to the brink. “Not too-”

Words were impossible against the suction that pulled Jiyong’s cheeks hollow. He wanted it to last, wanted to drag it out, but Jiyong knew him too well. Cherry red lips stretched around his girth as Jiyong bobbed, hand circling his base and stroking while his mouth lavished all its attention on Seunghyun’s head. He was good, so good, Seunghyun felt his balls tightening, his back arching up into Jiyong.

Desperate, he buried his hands in Jiyong’s ash blonde hair, dislodging the cap in an attempt to slow the pace. But he lost. Jiyong was relentless, using every trick cultivated over more than a decade together. The brink approached and Seunghyun’s vision whited out as he came, strung out, overwrought, spilling into Jiyong’s mouth, down his throat, against his lips, bright lipstick smeared. 

“Fuck,” he cursed again and Jiyong laughed, low and throaty, raw. His fingers came up to tidy his mouth, dragging through the traces of Seunghyun’s come. “You did that on purpose.”

Jiyong’s smirk cemented and he popped his finger into his mouth. 

Seunghyun grabbed Jiyong by his shoulders and hauled him up and flipped him over Seunghyun’s lap to hide that impertinent face. The skirt flipped up to expose Jiyong’s ass. He palmed it, his gloves still on, black leather seeming to make Jiyong’s skin glow. With a finger he pushed the red lace panties down low, exposing his round ass, and leaving them bunched at its base. 

“You knew I wanted it to last,” he chided, dragging his finger up over the round curve of his right cheek. “This-” he lifted his hand and brought it down in a hard slap, then pressed down to rub in a deep circle at the flesh of his ass, “is the contractually stipulated punishment, I believe.”

He brought his hand up and gave another strike and Jiyong yelped. 

Another strike; another yelp; another. Delicious staccato of sound. He dropped a hand to rub at the red-blossomed skin and Jiyong gave a long, drawn-out moan, little whimpers dying on the velvety arm of the chair. 

“Do you have anything to say for yourself, Scarlet?”

Jiyong shook his head. “No.”

Seunghyun gave another spank, on the other, still pristine cheek. “No?”

“No, sir.”

He stroked Jiyong’s flesh gently, soothingly, knowing what the feel of supple leather did to him. “That’s more like it.”

He leaned back in his chair to appreciate Jiyong’s ass, as bright as the panties twisting against him. Absently, he traced a finger down a garter, watching Jiyong squirm, feeling his erection pressed between them against his thigh. 

He dropped his hand down, nudging Jiyong’s thighs apart, stroking the soft skin behind his balls and Jiyong arched, hands going up to grip the armrest. He gave a high whine. 

Seunghyun snatched his hand away and brought it up to spank again, feeling a thick throb go through Jiyong’s cock. Jiyong sobbed and Seunghyun pulled up his hand to reveal his red print. 

“That’s for doing what you did despite knowing better. No more misbehaving now, right?”

Jiyong babbled out a stream of protestations. He could be good, would be good, do everything sir wanted. 

What sir wanted was Jiyong down on the floor. He took Jiyong by the hips and, lifting, resettled him on the floor to face the coffee table. He slid off the chair, pushing it back so he could kneel behind Jiyong. He wouldn’t be getting hard again for a little while, but that mattered almost nothing. 

His fingers toyed with the fringe of Jiyong’s skirt, which had fallen back over his hips. Using his forefinger, he hiked up the skirt to reveal the garters and traced one strap up, pushing the hem of the skirt with it. The panties were still a twisted mess so he slid them down ever so slowly, garters falling slack as he fully exposed Jiyong’s ass.

Sliding his hand back up, he dragged his fingers between his cheeks, teasing around his entrance. Jiyong hissed and arched up into him, ass swaying as he rocked back into Seunghyun’s hand. He pushed his fingers lower, tracing delicate circles over Jiyong’s balls, leather on skin one of Jiyong’s most potent kinks that he would never tire of exploiting. 

Jiyong brought an arm up to rest across the edge of the coffee table, pressing his forehead against it and groaning deep. “Sir,” he managed to gasp out as Seunghyun stroked him, teased him. He kept his touch light but deliberate, knowing just where to touch, just where to stroke, ear perfectly attuned to the rippling sound of Jiyong’s moans. 

“Please,” he begged. 

“Please what,” Seunghyun rumbled. 

“Please, sir.”

Seunghyun relented. “Drawer closest to your left.”

Jiyong reached to open it and pulled out the tube, handing it back to Seunghyun who’d shifted to kneel beside him. He held it in one hand while he brought the other up to his mouth, using his teeth to pull the glove off. Lubed up, he pressed his fingers, again, along the cleft of Jiyong’s ass, marveling that the sight of Jiyong on his knees, offered up to Seunghyun’s pleasure, still thrilled him. 

“Please,” Jiyong gasped, no longer cocky and in control but needy, helpless. Just what Seunghyun wanted. 

He pressed against Jiyong’s entrance, sliding in slowly, letting the stretch drag on, timed to the crescendo of Jiyong’s moan. He was always so tight and hot and it pulled at Seunghyun, creating a hunger in him. Two fingers slipped in easily and Jiyong arched deeper, spreading his legs to get Seunghyun in as far as he could go. 

Seunghyun brought his gloved hand up to Jiyong’s collarbone to hold the base of Jiyong’s neck. Jiyong hissed. He would not squeeze. They’d dabbled in breathplay before, but a night several years ago that he’d like to forget had sworn them both off it ever again.

Jiyong leaned down, letting his weight fall against Seunghyun’s hand and he flexed but did not tighten. He wouldn’t choke, but choking wasn’t the point, just the pressure of his hand on Jiyong’s neck was enough. 

And so, he held Jiyong in both hands as he writhed and rocked, riding the pleasure Seunghyun summoned with his fingers, anchored by the hand at his collarbone. 

Seunghyun found himself moaning in sync with Jiyong; he couldn’t help it, his body always wanted to match Jiyong’s. He could feel his blood beginning to surge, a telltale pressure growing in his cock, not hard or close to it; warm pleasure radiated through him. 

He began to thrust his fingers rhythmically, no longer toying but fucking Jiyong in earnest. Jiyong moved with him, perfectly rocking in his hands. It was too much. Seunghyun pulled him up to kneeling to take his mouth, kissing him deeply, swallowing down Jiyong’s moans. Jiyong was pliant in his arms, his whole weight heavy against Seunghyun. 

Seunghyun broke the kiss and Jiyong fell forward, head buried into Seunghyun’s chest, his body heaving as he panted. Seunghyun scooped him up and moved him up onto the couch, sitting him low, making use of the deep seats so Jiyong’s body reclined, his feet sprawled over the floor. Seunghyun sat beside him, looking down at him, taking him in. 

Jiyong’s skin was flushed a brilliant red, sweat catching the low firelight, glistening. His cock tented his skirt and Seunghyun flipped it up. Jiyong was hard and leaking but would not touch himself until commanded. 

Seunghyun slid his fingers back into Jiyong and Jiyong bucked up. “S-sir,” he hissed, catching himself from saying Seunghyun’s name. 

_ Good boy, _ Seunghyun wanted to say, but he held back, letting the almost-slip go unremarked. Instead he brought his other hand up to pet Jiyong, who leaned into the touch. Jiyong was so strung out, super-responsive to every touch. It had been a long time since he’d brought Jiyong to this point. It was humbling. 

Leaning down, Seunghyun kissed him again and Jiyong whimpered, a needy cry. 

Seunghyun resumed his finger-fucking, using the better angle to hit Jiyong just right, reveling in every shudder that ran through him, lost in the beauty of Jiyong writhing under his touch, his cock hard and hungry. 

_ I love you, _ he thought, and the words burned on his tongue. But again, he bit back, preserving the fantasy. But it was the truth. He loved everything about Jiyong and watching him, a being of pure sexual need succumbing to Seunghyun’s whims, was almost too much. His heart ached, it was too full, it was going to burst. 

“I lo-” he broke off quickly and leaned down to take another kiss and brought his free hand to cup Jiyong’s neck. With a quick, strong jerk, he ripped the buttons fastening Jiyong’s dress and yanked it down, exposing Jiyong’s chest, lightly muscled and flushed, nipples pert. He pulled enough to free Jiyong’s arms and left the dress bunched across Jiyong’s stomach.

Leaning back down he whispered in Jiyong’s ear, “Stroke yourself.”

Possessed, Jiyong gripped himself and stroked, his hand a blur. Seunghyun pushed a third finger into Jiyong and slid them in as deep as he could, letting Jiyong fuck himself as he stroked his cock. 

It wouldn’t last long, but the image seared itself into Seunghyun’s mind as he watched Jiyong’s breath freeze, his body tense, his eyes close, head thrown back against the cushions while he came, drenching the dress. 

Seunghyun fell forward, hand slipping out from Jiyong as he pressed their brows together, waiting as Jiyong’s breathing slowed and his eyes could focus a bit. 

“Hey,” Jiyong said. 

“Hey,” Seunghyun said back. 

Jiyong shifted his head to give Seunghyun’s lips a soft kiss. “Good?”

Seunghyun nodded. “Good?”

“Fuck, hyung!” Jiyong laughed. “It’s been a while since its been like that, but-” he wriggled and brought his arms up to wrap around Seunghyun’s neck. “You almost broke character.”

Seunghyun growled, scandalized. “So did you, you imp!” Of course Jiyong had noticed. 

“Whatever,” Jiyong rolled his eyes, “I don’t know what you are talking about.” He looked down to survey himself. “God, I’m a wreck.”

“I’m not sorry.”

“You’re paying for my repairs.”

“You realize we have joint accounts.”

Jiyong gave a pouty glare. “I’m sending the bill to you anyways.”

He was such an imp. Seunghyun couldn’t take it. He kissed Jiyong deep and hard. “I love you,” he said when they broke the kiss.

“I know.”

“Jiyong!”

“I love you, too, now help me get up.”

Seunghyun helped him gather himself and pulled him up to standing, aware of every wince. “You sure you’re ok?”

“We weren’t that rough, just gonna be a bit bruised and tender. I’m fine.” Seunghyun stared at him. “Honestly, hyung, its good. Be rougher next time.”

“So there’s gonna be a next time?”

Jiyong’s grin was wicked. 

Seunghyun steered them to the shower where he indulged in personally washing Jiyong down, taking note of the light bruising already showing up on his ass, a few small pricks of bruising around his collar. Not bad, but still he gave them gentle touches. 

“Do you want to sleep here?” he asked as he toweled Jiyong’s hair for him as he was too loose and giddy to really want to do anything, which was just another version of Jiyong that squeezed at Seunghyun’s heart. 

Jiyong nodded. “Let me call my driver, bring me my bag.”

“Your driver?” Seunghyun walked out to the living room to get Jiyong’s things.

“Junmyeon is very strict about the rules,” Jiyong explained as he handed him his phone. ‘Bae is waiting in a car downstairs.”

“You got Youngbae!?”

Jiyong rolled his eyes. “Of course I got Youngbae. He was always my driver.”

“I -” Seunghyun considered his reaction - “just didn’t realize he was still driving.”

“Not much, but occasionally- one sec.” He put the phone to his ear. “Hey, I’m good, we’re going to stay here tonight so you’re done.” He paused and gave a small smile. “Thanks man, take care.” 

Seunghyun pulled him up and Jiyong padded out of the restroom into the closet. There wasn’t much in the house, but Seunghyun still had some old clothes, so it was that Jiyong came back a little bit later - while Seunghyun was brushing his teeth - clad in an oversized set of old pajamas.

Seunghyun spit and looked him over, too-long sleeves hanging over his hands and rolled up cuffs at his feet, light flush to his cheeks, hair spiky and still damp, eyes lazy and soft. “Why the fuck are you so adorable?”

Jiyong leaned up to peck him. “Because you love me.” He walked off to the bedroom.

It was true. Seunghyun went and retrieved his own set of pajamas, then joined Jiyong on the bed. It was smaller than their normal bed, but that was a good thing. He loved sleeping pressed up against Jiyong. 

Jiyong shifted onto his back and brought an arm up. Seunghyun’s heart fluttered as he snuggled up in the crook of Jiyong’s shoulder, head resting half on Jiyong’s chest. Usually this position was reversed, but Jiyong knew how much he loved it this way. 

“Good?” Jiyong asked. 

Seunghyun hummed and Jiyong shifted a bit to turn off the bedside lamp and they both slipped into sleep. 

  
  


Seunghyun had forgotten about the only drawback to this apartment until he was assaulted by bright sunlight streaming in from a large east-facing window in the early morning.

“Damn,” Jiyong sighed beside him, “forgot about that.”

Seunghyun groaned and rolled over, spooning Jiyong and pulling him in tight, face searching for darkness at Jiyong’s nape. 

“Oh, good morning, little Seunghyun.” 

Seunghyun realized he had morning wood and grumped, “I told you not to call it that.”

Jiyong wiggled his ass, rubbing it against Seunghyun’s cock. “Ok you’re right, not little.”

“Jerk.”

Jiyong rolled away, removing the delicious pressure from Seunghyun’s cock. “No,  _ that’s _ me being a jerk.”

Seunghyun grabbed and yanked him back. Jiyong used the momentum to roll over atop Seunghyun, straddling him as Seunghyun rolled onto his back. He looked up and appreciated the view of Jiyong bathed in the light. The oversized pajama shirt, buttoned at mid chest, had slipped to reveal a bare shoulder and nipple. 

Seunghyun reached up and pinched at the nipple, bringing a soft hiss through Jiyong’s lips as he leaned into the pain. 

“Not the only one with morning wood,” Seunghyun remarked as he looked down. 

Jiyong smirked down at him. “Your fault for making me wake up next to all this hotness.” He slid hands down Seunghyun’s chest, undo his buttons and pulling his shirt apart to expose him to the light. “Mm lets do something about this too,” he said with a rotation of his hips, their erections ghosting against one another. 

“Mm, lets,” Seunghyun repeated. He shifted to let Jiyong tug the waist of his pants down to his thighs, then watched as Jiyong pulled his erection out of his own pants. 

Jiyong pressed their cocks together, then gripped them in his slender hand. “Tell me how hot I was last night.”

_ So  _ Jiyong. Not ‘was I hot last night’ or ‘did you like how I looked last night’. The man knew what he looked like and how much Seunghyun loved it. 

“I thought I was gonna die when I saw the red.”

Jiyong groaned and set a steady rhythm to stroking them. “More.”

Seunghyun recounted the whole night, speaking around his gasps of pleasure as Jiyong worked them over. The memories of last night spilled into their morning pleasure. 

“You almost lost it while you were fingering me.”

“I did,” Seunghyun admitted. He brought a hand up to Jiyong’s thigh and squeezed as his pleasure began to peak. Jiyong stroked faster, hips jerking forward to add a bit of thrust as well. He was close, too. 

“Why-” he gasped. 

“You’re - so fucking hot and-” his balls drew tight - “I love you.” 

“Say it again.” Jiyong’s breath came in heavy pants and his body tensed. “Say it again.” 

“I love you - I love yo-” Seunghyun broke off as he came, Jiyong joining him in falling over the edge. 

He came to a moment later, Jiyong draped over him. 

“Oh, that was nice.” Jiyong gave his lips a peck.

“Very nice,” Seunghyun agreed. 

They pulled off their come stained shirts, balling them and tossing them over the edge of the bed, readjusting their softening cocks and pulling their pants up so they could snuggle back in one another’s arms.

Jiyong laid his head on Seunghyun’s chest. “You know the only shitty thing is I painted my toes and you didn’t even notice.”

“What?” Seunghyun’s mind boggled. How had he missed that? Jiyong had washed his own feet in the shower and he’d been wearing heels and dark stockings for most of the scene. Still, he’d been robbed. “Let me see,” he demanded. 

Jiyong kicked at the sheets and pulled out a foot. Sure enough, bright red sparkled on his toes. 

“Well I guess it just means we’ll have to do this again some time.” Seunghyun made a mental note to always check Jiyong’s toes. 

Jiyong laughs. “I guess you’ll just have to keep an eye on the site, then, for when Madam Scarlet decides to stage another comeback.”

Seunghyun squeezed him tight and decided he’d have to check the site every day for the rest of eternity. 


End file.
